


A Fair Hearing

by swooning



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3704179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swooning/pseuds/swooning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the first Baltar/Roslin debate, she's still giggly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fair Hearing

**Author's Note:**

> A piece of fluff written for a long-ago LJ challenge by Fellowshipper, inspired by a gif set on a thread by prettypinkdork [here](http://adama-roslin.livejournal.com/340642.html#cutid1).

“It was the pencils, Bill. I know it was the pencil thing that did it.” Laura Roslin kicked off her shoes as soon as the hatch had closed, and nodded her consent as Admiral Adama offered to pour her a tumbler of water.   
  
“You’re too modest. I think Tory would not approve…” He gestured at the discarded shoes. “Not presidential, Madame President.”   
  
“Gods, she needs a sense of humor. But she’s in her element with this campaign; by the time I wake up tomorrow, she’ll have polled the debate and all its implications six ways from Sagittaron. I think she must wake people up to get their responses… did I  _do_  all this?” The President was now kneeling on the floor, picking up halves of torn index cards from her pre-debate preparation.   
  
“Someone’ll do that tomorrow.”  
  
“They won’t have to if I do it tonight,” she pointed out with a moue of dissatisfaction. Books stacked on the floor might add tone, but litter was another matter. “Ouch! What is – oh. Maybe I take back what I said about the pencils.” She had just encountered one unexpectedly, and it had left an angry imprint in her knee.   
  
“Hey, are you all right?” Bill had moved to stand just over her, placing the tumblers of water on the desk and bending over a little to expect her knee.   
  
“I’ll live,” she admitted, and automatically held up a hand, which he just as automatically took to help her stand up. Which she did. About two inches away from him, much closer than either of them had planned. Her eyes, so close to his he could see tiny flecks of gray within the green, went wide with astonishment.  
  
Then she giggled, the earlier fit returning full force, and the motion of her body brought her even closer; there was nowhere else to go, she was too close, and his arms were around her waist before she realized it. Nose to nose, it seemed all too easy to lean forward just that extra inch, and Laura did, still struggling to suppress her laughter as she brushed her lips against his in an impetuous kiss.   
  
“I owed you one, anyway,” she explained, and would have pulled away. Her hand was already on his chest, ready to separate them. Instead, he put his own over it and pulled it behind him, pulling her firmly back against him and pinning her there.   
  
A final giggle escaped her just before he stole another kiss, and then she stopped giggling, stopped doing anything but melting under his lips. She freed her arm, brought her hands up to frame his face, then ran them up into his hair, Thick, soft, just long enough to get a grip on… rife with potential, that hair.   
  
When the kiss grew more than just a little interesting, got downright enthusiastic, they both stopped for breath and reconsideration.   
  
“This is a really bad idea. We should stop right away,” Laura said; she intended it to be a firm statement, not the hoarse whisper she actually produced.   
  
Bill cleared his throat before speaking, but did little better; his voice was husky at the best of times, and now it was positively raspy, a change Laura found far more stimulating than was probably wise. “You’re right. Let’s give it a fair hearing before we decide, though.” And he kissed her again, holding her in place by her waist and her neck. Not that she tried to escape.   
  
“It’s probably just a natural high from the debate going so well,” she mused, when he finally relinquished her lips and started to nuzzle his way down her chest. “Just a natural impulse.”  
  
“Natural,” he echoed, from somewhere in her cleavage.  
  
“I’m just keyed up. I probably overprepared.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m keyed up, too,” he agreed. “Need something to take the edge off.” Apparently ‘The Edge’ was his new nickname for her jacket, as he was actually in the process of taking  _that_  off. Or perhaps it was what he had decided to call her dress, which was next to go.  
  
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Laura reasoned, working the clasps to Bill’s jacket as if she did so every day. “We both contend with a lot of stress.”  
  
“Stress, yeah. This is all just tension.” He whipped his undershirts off, and resumed disrobing her without missing a beat.   
  
“It’s not like anybody has to know.” She managed to get his pants off, but had to pause for the removal of her bra and underwear. “Take those off,” she suggested pleasantly, referring to his boxers and socks with a vague gesture. “And lock the hatch.”  
  
“Right.” He complied with alacrity, giving the wheel on the hatch a firm spin.  
  
“Bill? We’re just giving it a fair hearing, right?” Laura was already tugging him toward the couch, stopping along the way to feel him up. And, of course, to be felt up.   
  
“Right.” He scooped her up, his strength surprising her as always, and deposited her on the couch, sliding in on top of her and happily attacking her breasts. “And stress.”   
  
“Stre—yess!” His lips had found one nipple, his fingers the other, and he was doing his best to make each one harder than the other.   
  
She reached down between them impatiently, finally encountering his erection and attempting to pleasure herself with it. He took it one step further, batting her hand away with his, and guiding himself into her smoothly. This left his hand free, and it immediately found other employment in the same vicinity.   
  
“Gods…  _yes,_  right  _there_.”  
  
“There?”  
  
“Mmrmph-mmm.”  
  
“I see why you won the debate.”  
  
“Aaah!”  
  
“You’re so articulate… oh. Oh… that’s… wow… tell me you’re close.”  
  
“ _Bill…_ ”  
  
“Ungh…”  
  
Not so articulate. But communicating quite clearly, nevertheless.   
  
Time passed. Temperatures cooled. Tension ebbed away from the fleet’s top leadership tier, leaving sleepy satiation in its wake.   
  
“Gods…”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“Bill… we have  _got_  to stop  _doing_  this.”  
  
“Mmm. Laura?”   
  
“What?”  
  
“How many more debates are there going to be?”


End file.
